OUT OF CONTEXT LYRIC THREAD

The ocean breathes salty, won't you carry it in?
In your head, in your mouth, in your soul
And maybe we'll get lucky and we'll both grow old
Well I don't know. I don't know. I don't know. I hope so

GOD DAMN IT that's one hell of a poisonous earworm

The singer out of Slipknot went to Rome to see The Pope
The singer out of Slipknot went to Rome to see The Pope
The singer out of Slipknot went to Rome to see The Pope
And The Pope said to his aide...

Who the fucking hell are Slipknot?
Who the fucking hell are Slipknot?
Who the fucking hell are Slipknot?
In relation to me getting out of bed?

I'll take tuna sweeeet corn; I'll take tuna sweeeet corn

I'm a stranger to Nirvana,
I don't box outside my weight
But when I stepped out of the taxi
I did not anticipate this feelin'

Now the heroes were plenty and well known to fame
In the troops that were led by the Czar,
And the bravest of these was a man by the name
Of Ivan Skavinsky Skavar

Say, you don't think there's any way I could get that quarter from underneath of your pointy boot, do ya?

All I want is just one more oatmeal pie.

I got the job because I was so mean
while somehow appearing so kind

Then on to Monte Carlo
to play chemin de fer
I threw away the fortune
I made transplanting hair

When you pissed yourself in Frankfurt and got syph down in Cologne
And you heard the rattling death train as you lay there all alone
Frank Ryan brought you whiskey in a brothel in Madrid
And you decked some fucking blackshirt who was cursing all the Y*ds
At the sick bed of Cuchulainn we'll kneel and say a prayer
And the ghosts are rattling at the door and the devil's in the chair

What the world needs now is a new Frank Sinatra so I can get you in bed

Catch a train on a silver afternoon
A thousand miles and I'm gettin' there too soon
Take me there, when I should be going home

Well, we shot the line and we went for broke,
With a thousand screaming trucks.
And eleven long-haired Friends of Jesus
In a chartreuse microbus.